The Girl who Knew How to be Beautiful
by 2angelgoats
Summary: Cassie is an art form, a love affair, a memory.
1. Art Form

_A/N_

 _Flooding the fandom, aren't I? My apologies! I've been wanting to write about Cassie again for a while, but couldn't really think of a plot, so you get this instead._ _Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

 **The Girl Who Knew How To Be Beautiful - Sid POV**

* * *

Nobody else did it right.

He had kissed other girls, at parties sometimes, and sometimes they made him feel good. Michelle in particular was like a flame - making him a moth? A moth seems to think that a flame will make it happy. Of course, it never could.

Michelle was so pretty. Those perfect curls, that dainty little nose and mouth. The way she smiled and giggled and rolled her eyes.

But there was something about Cassie; something he couldn't pin down. Like the movements she made, the things she said. Like they were all so inexplicably _right._ As if she knew just what jigsaw puzzle piece she made in the world. As if she knew, when she picked out a dress - held between finger and thumb, bone-thin and dangerous - or smeared glitter across her eyelids, or smiled so wide her face seemed to split in two, as if she knew just what she was doing. As if she knew so much more than anyone else.

No, nobody knew how to be beautiful like her.

* * *

 **First Snow - Cassie POV**

* * *

"Cassie."

It's not a question. It's as if the other girl just wants to roll Cassie's name between her teeth. To taste its vowels and consonants on her tongue. She's girl-next-door pretty in a white blouse and light blue skirt, just enough make up to show she cares, not so much she looks slutty.

Cassie smiles because she knows more than the other girl. She knows that slutty isn't always a bad thing. That sometimes when people know just how many boys you've slept with - and girls too, Cassie likes girls, they're softer and the look in their eyes when they realise what they're doing is worth any jibe to be thrown at her - when they realise you don't care, their disgust matures into something a little more like awe. Cassie can make herself look slutty when she wants to. Beautiful-slutty though. The right kind of slutty.

"Annika," replies Cassie. (That's probably not the girl's name but it's worth a try.)

"No, Michelle," she says, looking confused. It's January, there's one stray snowflake caught at the top of her hair, the part which is almost a fringe, and she's so lovely, lamb-like in the snow. Cassie decides she doesn't want to fuck this girl. She's too pretty and too safe. She can be friends with her though because it's about time Cassie started making friends.

"Wow." Speak, smile, pause, think, speak. "You look like an Annika though, so I'll call you that today, and Michelle tomorrow, yeah?"

Michelle doesn't answer, maybe she doesn't know how. Cassie likes Michelle's arm - the skin looks soft and just the right shade of pale - and so she links hers through it and drags her away, telling herself all those things she never believes. _We can be friends, Michelle spoke to me first, Michelle likes me, Michelle is my friend,_ Michelle is my friend _._

* * *

 **Hadn't Seen Her - Tony POV**

* * *

He'd never spoken to her. Her smile was too wide and her clothes hurt his eyes with their brightness. He knew she was vaguely friends with Michelle, so he didn't say things when she was there, but when it was just him and Sid, him and Maxxie, him and Chris, him and anyone... Then he could say anything he liked. And he liked to say a lot.

Made him feel in control. Saying things.

When she kissed him outside Abigail's party he wasn't expecting it to be good. She tasted ridiculously sweet, painfully sweet, like burnt sugar. She tasted like citrus and vodka, stinging his lips. She tasted like things that slip between your fingers, vague, elusive, not tangible and feminine like Michelle, not sickly sweet like (as he'd later found) Abigail, not smoky, drunk and cheap like the people he kissed at parties. Not like anyone who'd ever kissed him before. Not like anyone he'd ever kissed.

 _You know what,_ he thought absent-mindedly, _Sid's not in for a bad night._

Michelle pulled her off (more motherly care than jealous anger, which said a lot, Tony thought) but apparently the kiss was more than a whim because Cassie had something to say. She resisted for a moment, tracing words into his sleeve, before letting Michelle drag her backwards (leaving Tony lost and missing it slightly, almost wanting more.) There was a look in her eyes that told him exactly what those words had said.

 _I win. I win, I win, I win. You say those nasty things about me Tony Stonem and then I kiss you and you like it. I win. I knew I would. I always do. I win, I win, I win. And now I'll have him too. I'll make him want me like you wanted me then. Make him more than want me. Love me like he loves you. More than he loves you._

Maybe Cassie meant those things and maybe she didn't.

But Tony wasn't taking any risks.

* * *

 **London's Burning - Effy POV**

* * *

"Do you think you're different from everyone else?"

Effy does think she's different from everyone else, but she senses it's not the right answer. "No."

Cassie laughs. Maybe she knows Effy's lying. Probably does. She knows most things.

A long time passes.

"Shall we light a fire and watch it burn?"

Effy loves fire, she loves the way it changes things, hurts them, makes them so they're not what they were. She loves ash, broken and defenceless. She loves embers. The way they're still trying. Pathetic. "Yeah."

They do. They burn grass, which doesn't work well for long, but when it does, it's beautiful. Cassie's face between the smoke is wild and fae-like, her skin silver with light and grey with darkness. Effy knows then that she wants, no, _has_ to be like her. To do everything like she does. To burn like she does, to laugh like she does, to break hearts like she does. To be all pills and tears and skinny legs. _To do everything like she does._

Except _more_ and _better_ and _worse._

* * *

 **Friends - Sid POV**

* * *

Sid thinks Cassie's crazy and kinda nice, too.

They hang out sometimes. She gives him advice about Michelle. It's sorta weird advice, all 'There are other girls you know Sid' and 'Michelle's not all that pretty, really', and she says it like there's something he's supposed to understand, but he never does. Cassie's hard to get.

One time she takes him to the park and says _these are the swings, I like to go on the swings._ So he thinks maybe she wants him to push her on the swings, and he does because that could be quite cool, and it's the sort of thing you do with friends when you're little. Cassie makes him feel like he's little sometimes. Sometimes she makes him feel really grown up, but that's weird, a bit creepy, really, so he doesn't think about it.

So she's flying on the swings with those pale legs pushed into the air, head thrown back, blonde hair everywhere. She's got a load of momentum now so Sid's just standing back hoping she doesn't hit him in the face. She's saying _wow_ a lot and giggling, which isn't out of the ordinary.

Then she jumps. Sid wasn't expecting it so he massively freaks out, doesn't exactly want her to die on him, does he? He goes galloping after her like he thinks he can catch her or something, but she lands on her feet and runs like she's expecting him to chase her. He does because he's a bit distracted and no-one's watching, so that's good, that's fine.

When he catches her she falls, or pretends to fall, and she pulls him down with her because she's Cassie and that's the sort of thing she does. They've left the tarmac behind now, and the swings, and alla that. They're in a really nice bit, and the grass has just been cut. He can smell it. Anyway Cassie rolls over, facing him, and she starts playing with his hands. She does that a lot. Then she takes his glasses, which is kinda difficult to justify but she does it anyway, so maybe she just likes taking his things. He tries to take them back, obviously she doesn't like it but after a while she lets him. She smiles, softer than her usual smile, eyes all sparkly. _It's a real shame we didn't fuck at that party, 'cause that could do wonders for my reputation, and I bet she's good in the sack._

"I am," she says, like she's read his mind, and smiles again, smiles so wide with those bright red lips and those pretty brown eyes, only she probably hasn't read his mind, she's probably just saying shit. Random shit. 'Cause she's Cassie.

* * *

 **Sparkles And Starvation - Cassie POV**

* * *

The girl in the mirror is not beautiful but she can be, Cassie can make her beautiful.

She can take all of her make-up off and put it back on again, carmine lips like a _femme fatale_ 'cause sometimes Cassie pretends she's one of those. Sparkles on her eyelids 'cause that's what she always does, but none of the normal stuff, no orange face paint covering up the little marks (Cassie likes those) and no mascara making her lashes all long and dainty, like Michelle's. Cassie doesn't want to look like Michelle. She wants to look better than her.

She can put on a sparkly dress, sparkly like her eyelids, sparkly short and silky. She can find nice shoes and nice sparkly things to put in her hair. Oh, her _hair!_ She can brush her hair all raggedy, too, that'll match. It'll make her look like a fucked up fairy princess and that's just how Cassie wants to look, fucked.

But she wants to look like a fairy too and there's only one way to do that.

She can push her thighs apart with the ache in her belly, the biting hunger. She can squeeze her stomach flat with measuring tap and she can urge the scales to steal the fat from her arms and her hips and her _everywhere._ She hates the fat. So yes, steal it away, take it like a changeling, fairy changeling. Make Cassie light like a fairy with gossamer limbs, so light, so light. She can do all of these things, she can do them until she is so, so beautiful that it makes people hurt.

Cassie almost drowns herself in sparkles and starvation. She tries and tries and tries again. She does it all, she knows how. But somehow it never works.

* * *

 **Silk - Maxxie POV**

* * *

Maxxie likes boys.

He doesn't like girls. He doesn't know why. Maybe he finds the curve of breasts unpleasant, maybe he needs weight and hardness and masculinity to steady him on this earth. Maybe they're too high maintenance. Maybe he doesn't like the way they smell.

He doesn't like fucking girls and he doesn't fall in love with girls. But he _can_ love them, love them like a friend, and he can tell when they're pretty, and he can tell when they're sad.

Cassie is pretty. Cassie is sad.

Maxxie loves Cassie because she's like art. Like a poem, vague yet somehow always true, built in strange forms and full of rhymes and stardust. Like a painting (and how he loves to paint her), smooth and strange strokes alternating to create a vision that can only be understood as a whole. He's had to overcome his urge to dissect her, to take her apart, because she's so much better together.

And like a dance. Smooth and silken limbs, laughter that makes its own music, moving with grace and style and fluidity. Maxxie wants to dance Cassie, but when he tries he can't, can't be her, can't dance her. Can't do it the way Cassie does it. He can draw her, draw her cheekbones and the light of her eyes, but there's something he's missing. He can write her, write the lilt of her words and the way she loves people so much it hurts, but there's something there isn't there. Still. He can try. And she's beautiful in his art, if not complete.

But he can't dance her.

He can carry on trying, though.


	2. Love Affair

_A/N_

 _Some more Cassie drabbles to take my (and hopefully your) mind off things._

* * *

 **Flowers For Chris And Cassie - Sid POV**

* * *

This is the way he tells her he loves her.

He wakes up in the morning and kisses her picture, kisses it because he can't kiss her anymore. Because she told him she didn't want him to. He says _I love you_ then, and the pictures keeps on smiling, even though Cassie stopped smiling after a while. He kisses the tickets that took him to New York but not the ones that took him home when she didn't want him there any more.

He makes breakfast, skinny skinny breakfast to take away the fat, the sort of breakfast that Cassie would like and that he never lets her eat. He has to eat two portions himself though so it doesn't make much difference to his weight. It's not about that, anyway.

He is very, very kind to Michelle, the sort of platonic that only really happens in picture books. He gives her lots of bear hugs and makes jokes and is generally not awkward and not Sid. He knows Michelle finds it weird but he thinks Cassie would like it.

Most importantly, he visits Chris, every day, and thinks about all the reasons why Chris is great and why Cassie loved him and why they were the _bestest of friends._ He lays flowers on Chris' grave, the sort of flowers he thinks Chris would like (because _Cassie likes what Chris likes_ and _Cassie likes it when Sid likes Chris_ and in a way, he supposes, because loving Chris for Cassie is a way of forgetting that he loved Chris himself.) Big flowers. Orange and blue. Flowers that don't apologise for anything, flowers that are strong and pretty in a strange, strange way.

Flowers for Chris and Cassie.

* * *

 **Red Eyes - Sketch POV**

* * *

 _Apparently he's gay but he can't be because he thinks_ she's _beautiful, I know, I can tell, and it's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair._

Sketch tries to talk to him about it once. He doesn't like it when she tries to talk to him, not since the show and even less since Anwar, so he's sharp, cruel, pushing her away. It hurts. She has to persevere though.

"But _why,"_ she whines, as she runs after him, "why can't you love me when you love _her?"_

That confuses Maxxie enough to suck the bitterness from his tongue for a moment. He turns around, actually faces her. "Who?"

" _Her."_ He's obviously not going to get it. "Cassie Ainsworth."

"Cassie? I don't love Cass - don't be stupid, Sketch, I'm _gay."_

"No, you can't be, because - "

"Sketch it's completely platonic, okay, and it's none of your fucking business anyway? So fuck off?" He doesn't normally speak like that, not to anyone but Sketch, and _oh,_ it hurts. It hurts so fucking much.

"You think she's beautiful." He sighs dramatically.

"Yeah. I do."

"So you can think a girl's beautiful."

"Yeah. I can."

She moves slightly closer to him. "Can you think _I'm_ beautiful, then? Even if you can't ever - ?"

She breaks off because the words make a lump in her through, turns away slightly so she doesn't have to see the hurt and the hollow in Maxxie's eyes. "No," he says finally, and it could be true. It's probably true. But he'd have said it anyway, even if it wasn't. Sketch knows that.

Later on Sketch watches them hug from across the yard. The big big smile on that stupid pretty face. The way he's so kind and so soft and so simple. She knows, then, that he told her the truth, that they're just friends and that that's a way to be happy, but she doesn't _let_ herself know, because Sketch hates to know the truth.

* * *

 **Refuge - Michelle POV**

* * *

"I want to get away from it all. From _him."_

"Yeah, totally, sounds good." Cassie plays with Michelle's fingers. _One little piggy, two little piggy._ "How come you always come running back to me, 'Chelle?"

It's a difficult question and Michelle hardly ever knows the answer to difficult questions. She knows that things with her and Cass are weird, because Sid loves her and not Cassie, or at least that's what he thinks. But she knows, as well, that Cassie is best sometimes. That it's easy to run to Sid, run to Jal, when Tony hurts her so much and she doesn't want to listen anymore. It's easy to run to them.

Cassie's harder but better, too. She's harder because there's something cold and cruel in her eyes when Michelle complains about Sid's attention, because the advice she gives about Tony is heavily biased. She's harder because she's Cassie, and the things she says make so much sense that it's difficult to understand them. She's better because she knows the truth and tells it, she twists it, but she tells it. She's better because she smiles and is so real, so fake, in a way that no-one else could ever be. She's better because she's Cassie, and the things she says make so much sense that it's difficult to understand them.

"You're my friend." Cassie laughs and bends Michelle's finger back, hard. _Three little piggy._

"Okay, we're friends. Yeah. Lovely."

The finger-bend was a punishment, Michelle knows that, but it's like she's passed a test. She's gone through the difficulty and although she maybe almost told a lie, she paid her penance, and now Cassie will be quiet. Cassie will be good. Cassie will be her friend.

"Wild world," says Cassie absent-mindedly as Michelle leaves. "Careful out there."

So she is.

* * *

 **Dusty Skies - Cassie POV**

* * *

Cassie was in love with the streets and the night and the air.

Cigarettes on the street, under her feet, and all the people who'd been and smoked them and gone.

Lamplights dim and golden, like rows of fireflies lining the roads.

The cold way night air tasted. Whistling through her teeth. Feeling the chill against her tongue.

Being with friends, and laughing into the emptiness, linked arms and tripping feet.

Being alone, and laughing into the emptiness, waving arms and dancing feet.

Shattered glass on the pavement. Danger.

Bright-eyed cats, sleekly elegant, dyed dim and grey with darkness.

The moon's pale luminescence, hanging in the air like a child's mobile.

Towering buildings, lit by yellow buildings, radiating noises of sex and tears and fighting and less interesting things.

Girls Out Late on the other side of the street, short skirts and vodka bottles.

The scene's silver hue, breath-taking, otherworldly.

Fantastical stories radiating from the outward breaths of every creature seen or felt or heard or hidden.

The stars, and how they were like a sprinkle of sugar dust against the sky.

Cassie was in love, in love, in love with everything there was.

* * *

 **Disappearing - Sid POV**

* * *

It was weird when it was just him and her. Well, obviously, it wasn't _weird_ weird. She was his girlfriend, he loved her, they loved each other. They enjoyed each other's company, hung out all the time, talked, loved, fucked, laughed.

But it was kind of weird. If he was honest.

It was weird because spending time with Cassie was always disconcertingly surreal; like she was only half-there, or like she hadn't been there before and wouldn't be there much longer. Ethereal, ephemeral. It was weird because she smiled so hard and so wide he worried her face would split in two, that she would split in two, disintegrate, float away. It was weird because Cassie was just really fucking weird sometimes.

"Love you," he said when he remembered (and she was good at making him remember). Sometimes she said she loved him too and sometimes she didn't, which didn't really bother Sid because he was pretty sure she did. She hardly ever lied anymore, at least, that's what she told him.

People seemed to sort of fade away from them when they were together. As if they were a museum exhibit, cased in glass, unable to be with their friends in case they withered from the stress. From the attention. That might have been right about Cassie, but Sid wanted to be treated as solid. Real. Dependable.

Well, maybe not dependable.

"Love you," he said again today, and she nodded absent-mindedly.

"Lovely... " Then she giggled. "Love you, lovely." But suddenly, as sudden as only Cassie could be, her face fell, as if something terrible had just occurred to her and nothing could be right until it was dispelled. "You _do,_ though,don't you?"

He was about to say _yeah, 'course I do, don't be stupid, Cass,_ but then he thought he might as well give the question some dignity. He looked at her for a long time, looked at the ragged curls falling over her face, looked at her pale, pixie-like features, looked at those bewitching brown eyes and the caught, tense hope she couldn't hide in them now. There was an aching feeling in his chest that he couldn't identify.

"Yeah. Yeah, I really fucking do."

And she smiled so wide he got scared about her face again.

* * *

 **Spoonfuls Of Sugar - Anwar POV**

* * *

 _Birds?_ Nah, there weren't birds around here, Anwar knew that, he must be imagining it. Still. Birds had absolutely _nothing_ to do with the dream he'd just had, so it was a bit weird, if he was honest.

The noise came again; it wasn't a bad noise but it was really fucking strange. He sat up a little. "Maxxie?" No sooner had the name left his mouth then a face surfaced, swimming in his line of vision. It was pretty and blonde and smiling, so it _could_ have been Maxxie, but it wasn't.

"Cassie?" Just getting weirder and weirder. Why the hell was _she_ here?

"Maxxie had to do something. Said you were at his for a while 'cause... 'Cause it was all fucked up for you home. Said you were feeling, like, totally shit. And I said, wow, poor Anwar, I'll help look after him." She giggled then and made a little whistling noise between her teeth he'd never heard her make before. _Ah,_ birds. "Oh, and I made you, like, all of this." With that she moved backwards; in her stead was a proffered silver tray, like something you'd get in a hotel. A cup of tea next to a bowl full of sugar, a plate of melting-butter toast, heaps of no doubt succulent fruit.

Anwar didn't have the patience to ask questions; as such, his gratitude was rushed. "Yeah, thanks, Cass, you're a great friend."

"Wow, that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said about me." (With a grin.)

Anwar severely doubted that was true, but it had made him feel happy when she'd said it, so he didn't say that. He just smiled back at her as un-awkwardly as he could, and then turned his attention to the object of his desires. The toast.

* * *

 **Voices - Cassie POV**

* * *

Nobody else heard them. Cassie didn't understand that at all. They were so loud, so clear, and the things that they told her to do made so much _sense._ Of course it would be easier, just that little bit easier, if she skipped lunch, if she cut that last little thread hanging from the hem of her dress. People might like her more if she was neat, thin, pretty.

She loved them so much because they were kind and understood. Nobody else was kind, nobody else understood. So who could blame her if she turned to them? They knew what Cassie wanted. They knew who Cassie was. And she listened to them, in return. A small price to pay.

Sometimes her stomach hurt, or she was tired, and she just wanted to lie down, and not do anything difficult any more. But she did what they said anyway because she knew they were right. And even if they had been wrong, she would have listened, because it made her feel safe, being told what to do. Like she didn't have to think for herself anymore. She could just be whatever they told her.

And it was so romantic, to have voices in her head.


	3. Memory

_A/N_

 _Hopefully you've enjoyed these? Well, if you haven't, be happy, because this is the last instalment and they'll stop clogging up the Skins front page soon xD Thankyou so much to everyone who read this!_

* * *

 **Generations - Sid POV**

* * *

He'd always hated speaking in public.

It was difficult to judge what they were thinking, the people looking up at you. They could be thinking anything. Anything about _you._

But he was making the speech today because Tony had asked him to, a favour, as a mate, and how could he not oblige? After all, he was the perfect inspiration to Tony's Cambridge students, some only four or five years younger than Sid and Tony themselves. Teenage layabout re-invented; a respected innovator, wealthy, smart. Not what Sid had _ever_ expected from his future. 'Sidney Jenkins' somehow just didn't look great on business cards.

"There will always be magical people in your life," Sid told them, "and sometimes they'll stay, and sometimes they won't. The trick is not to focus on what they were, but on what they help you to become. I'm not going to lie and say that it's easy; it's not, but those people, whether they be teachers or family members or even lovers - " - Sid's speech broke slightly on that last word - " - when they leave, their traces, their footprints on your heart and mind, those are what you have to learn from, those are what you have to keep. And you have to remember them. That's important, too."

And then he moved onto other things, other Inspirational Ideas and Mottoes Of Self-Love, things that meant less.

One kid approached him after the speech. Definitely one of the oldest there - you could tell by height alone, but it was more than that. There was a confidence, an ease in the way he held himself. Like he knew a lot. Had learnt a lot. It wasn't an irritating or pretentious thing. It was simple. Graceful, almost. (And it was probably difficult to be graceful with those massive boots on, thought Sid, so kudos to him.)

"I liked your speech. The bit about magical people, especially." The boy grinned. He had a nice face. "That bit was true. I had to learn it myself. It was hard. So thanks for teaching it to other people, so they don't have to." And he would have sauntered off, but Sid stopped him. He liked the boy so much that he invited him for coffee the next day.

It was the start of a beautiful friendship.

* * *

 **Simple Futures - Cassie POV**

* * *

Darkness was soft, it had no edges. That was a big part of why Cassie liked darkness so much. She liked the way it wrapped around her and held her tight, so that she was safe, so that she didn't have to remember.

Jia turned over next to her, her breath warm and soft and comforting, and Cassie slung a slender arm around her shoulder. Being with Jia was so simple. She could make herself love her, in a quiet, calm way; and sometimes, when she forgot that they loved each other, that they had to love each other, she could make do with pretending. She didn't have to think about S- _blockedblockedblocked_ , or C- _blockedblockedblocked_ , or even J- _blockedblockedblocked_. She could turn those people away; out of sight, out of mind, it should be. Should be as simple as Cassie-and-Jia, as simple as works-as-a-shop-assistant, as simple as low-rent-house-in-an-okay-area.

Cassie could have been a model.

Cassie could have travelled the world.

Cassie could have married someone she loved _so much,_ instead of Jia, whom she couldn't let herself love, not really.

But she couldn't have been a model, because then she would have had to be beautiful, and Cassie had learnt that being beautiful was difficult and caused problems. It made people take strange pictures of you and she didn't like that. It made people run away from you and she didn't like that. And it made you want to keep being beautiful, _more_ beautiful, until suddenly food made you sick and pills made you float with happiness. She couldn't have travelled the world, because then she wouldn't have been safe and in control. And those were what she needed, she knew that.

And she couldn't have married S-S- _blockedblockedblockedblockedblockedblockedblocked._

She just couldn't. It just wouldn't have been possible. _No._

* * *

 **Wilderness - Chris POV**

* * *

 _There's so many different parts of the human brain, right, utterly loads, it's mad. There's like all these different lobes and cortexes and shit. Fucking insane._

 _But there's even more parts of the mind._

 _Part I'm at right now, it's really fucking weird, actually. I been here ever since I died and I dunno, really, but I think I'm gonna be here a while yet, if you catch my drift. I mean it's cool, right, 'cause it's weird, but it's not always a good cool. 'Cause it gets scary sometimes. And I just think, if I was outta this place, just for a bit, back on the good old earth with my girl Jal, I could just hold her hand and it'd be cool, yeah? But I'm not and it's not. I mean it's not cool._

 _Sometimes I see her, for a moment, and I run, trying to get to her, right, but I can't catch up 'cause she's a fucking mad runner, or at least she is in this place, which is fucking weird. And I see Cass too. And she tells me shit. About how it's going down and all. And I like knowing that shit, I do. Keeping in touch._

 _Cass doesn't run, and I wish Jal didn't, either, but you gotta make do with what you've got, yeah? And I seriously love Cass, she's a right fine lady, yeah, a top wench, that one. And I like the stuff she tells me, even though some of it's a right shame, like how she's not doing the horizontal tango with Sid anymore, or even loving each other either. Only they probably are, but they get confused, don't they, we all do - like me and Jal, we got confused, 'cause I shouldn't have fucked Angie and all. But this shit sorts itself out, yeah? And it's cool again and I'm just hoping they'll be cool again, too, 'cause that'd be cool. Cool._

 _Unless you die, like, then it doesn't get sorted out, but that's cool, man, that's cool. I'm dead self-actualised and I've come to terms with it all and shit._

 _But you know what I asked Cass, asked her about Jal, yeah, and she said the reason Jal's running is that she's not so self-actualised, right, and she hasn't come to terms with it, which is not top. And I told Cass to help her out, like, but they've not seen each other in a while. But my Jal's a clever bird. So she's gonna sort this shit out, my girl is, like she should, yeah. But for r_ _ight now I just make do talking to Cass, she's my mate really, she's top and I love her. So we talk, yeah, we talk loads, and that's cool. I'm cool with that._

* * *

 **Another Sort Of Mind - Sid POV**

* * *

"Everyone thinks about things differently," Sid's mum told him once. He was eight, maybe, and he'd just forgotten to hand in his first ever piece of homework. This had not pleased his dad. "You, Sid, you live in the present, which is good and bad. Your father lives in the future, so he can plan for what is going to happen, but it means he can get too angry and anxious about things sometimes. That's why you fall out. Don't worry about it."

"What about you?"

Elizabeth Jenkins smiled; the almost regretful of an adult who understands too much to a child who understands too little. "Sidney, I live in the past."

The thing is that his mum was wrong. She was right about Sid's dad, and she may well have been right about herself, but she was wrong about Sid. At the time he did live in the present - but not everyone always stays the same. Things and people, they come along and change you. Sid knew that now.

When he first met Cassie he began to think in the future without realising it. _When am I seeing her next, what will we be doing, what should I say, what should I do, will Michelle be there, what if I fuck up?_ Then Maxxie pointed out to him that she was beautiful, and so Sid pointed out to himself that he loved her, and that was that. A happy ending. Or rather, a happy middle, because there was more yet to come. And still then, he was thinking about the future. _Where are we going_ and _where will we be in so many years_ and _how can I make this better, better, even better?_

In America, sometimes, he had even let himself think so far into the future that he was fantasising about rings and knees and bells and churches. Stupid things. But things Sid almost wanted now.

Now she was gone, and Sid lived in the past. Lived in the photographs of her he still kept beside his bed, lived in the letters she had written to him so many years ago, lived, more than anything else, in his own memories, so fallible in every area but her. Memories of the way she walked, the way she laughed, the slight flutter of her eyelids just before she went to sleep.

* * *

 **Buses - Jal POV**

* * *

"Where are you, Cassie?"

Her whisper is inconsequential in the night. She traces a shaking finger down the bus timetable, wanting to get home, get a good night's sleep, because she has practice tomorrow and she needs to stay on top form. This scholarship is a blessing; one that she cannot take for granted.

"Why'd you bugger off like that? You know I need you here. I guess we weren't close. But I thought you said we loved each other. I went with you in the ambulance, remember? And I miss you now you're gone. I didn't think I would, but I do, I really miss you."

There is not another bus for half an hour, which she can deal with. It could be a lot worse. She blinks, hard, so that the image of a smiling girl (so pale, so bright, skin and teeth and hair) is gone. Her breath condenses on the wall of the bus shelter; she rubs it away, and yes, the blink has worked. She can't see the figure any more, slender in the rain. That's good. She doesn't want to.

"I guess I need you more than anyone else, because you and Chris were so close. I want you here, so that we can talk about him. That's how you're supposed to get over stuff. Talking."

She snorts at herself, or rather at what she's repeating from that stupid counsellor the other week.

"But we all need you, because it's always been rain and thunderstorms, our group, and you were always so sunny. I mean I think we all need you here. Keeping the balance. We all had our roles to play, didn't we, Cassie? And Chris died and left his empty, and then you fucked off and left yours empty, and now Sid's fucked off and left his empty, but I can't blame you for that. I mean you two are in love and all, or at least you're supposed to be."

She sighs.

"I guess it doesn't matter. I don't even talk to the others anymore, 'cept 'Chelle now and then. But I think you should come back. I mean not for any particular reason. Just to be my friend, maybe... Anyone's friend. I don't know. I just think you were pretty special. And I miss you. That's all it is, I guess."

* * *

 **Regretting It - Cassie POV**

* * *

i told him to leave and not come back, cause i was tired of the same, but now sames all i want, i miss him

no that's stupid

no, it's true

i don't know. maybe its both. yeah thats it, its both, thats it. its stupid but its true, i miss him

this stream of consciousness stuff is stupid, i dont want to have counselling anymore, it isnt helping, youre not helping, and i cant write as quickly as i think anyway, even if i take out all the punctuation so it looks real stupid

but i do love him. or i did, or i do. im not sure i dont know

i dont know much anymore really

i used to know it all

i used to be everything i wanted to be

but i know where he must have gone i guess

and im going there too, just to see

just for a little while

home

* * *

 **Butterflies, Sparrows, and Ladybirds' Homes - Adam POV**

* * *

 _Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home_

 _Your house is on fire and your children are gone_

He doesn't know what he's left behind, but he knows that when Cassie Ainsworth crashed into his life like a baby sparrow, fallen from her nest, it was the right thing to do to nurse her back to life. He knows that it was the right thing, too, to leave her, that if you care for a chick too long its parents will not take it back. That a butterfly loses its beauty when it is frozen safe inside a jar, or on a wall.

He'll go home one day, and perhaps she'll have burnt it to pieces, and perhaps she'll be gone. He hopes she'll be gone. She needs to be gone. Because you can't stay forever with the first person who's kind to you. Cassie's smart, he thinks, she'll figure it out. Hopefully. Maybe.

Or maybe Cassie will never spread her wings and fly away home, but she has them - those wings - and not many people do. So she'll struggle through.


End file.
